Tate and Maxie
by PayneNichole
Summary: Maxie moves in with her family and meets Tate


Chapter One

I stare at the offending rice cake (35 calories) and chew at my lip-careful not to let any skin past my lips. I don't know how much calories a strip of flesh from a lip contains, it could make me gain weight-wind up to be a million pounds, whale sized. My throat constricts dryly as I swallow spit that isn't there. I need food. I don't need food; it's disgusting. I'm starving. Just one more day of fasting and I'll be 90 pounds. I'm weak. If my stomach is empty, I'm strong. 90 pounds means I'll be skinny enough to be shipped to the prison where they drip fat into my veins and think I'll thank them for it. After 90 pounds I only have 10 more pounds to my goal weight. I can do it. I smirk at the article of lard across the table and pick it up to throw it across the room. I don't need it, I'm strong. Black invades my vision and I stumble, I stood up too fast. My legs wobble as they carry me to my car, I don't need to go to school. I can stay home and exercise.

I wander up the strange stairs I haven't yet gotten used to and turn into my room. My family made me move all the way to California-the beach, they said would help me get better. I don't want to 'get better' I want to stay strong. Now we're in some creepy house were loads of people have died. My parents really have a nice way of choosing houses. I slowly head into a jog on the treadmill and grasp hold of the bars, If I fall I might break into a million pieces and then I would be fat in my casket. I need to be skinny when I die. My breath comes out haggard and broken, I keep going. If I stop, then I'm weak. I lick my finger as my gut growls at me menacingly. I want to scream at it. My hipbones jut out-my family tells me. My knees are bigger than my thighs-my family tells me. But I'm not skinny, my belly overflows to the floor and my thighs may as well be long, wide tubes of ice cream. I'm so fat I look bigger than a whale.

I finish working out and fall uselessly onto my bed, a cold bath doubled with ice cold water will burn at least 200 more calories. I quickly make my way into my room and strip down before I stand on the scale, 89 pounds. 9 more pounds and then I will be the perfect weight. I slip my foot into the 40 degrees water, it feels like stepped out into an ice room. My throat constricts to keep in a little squeal. I might die right here in this very bathtub, it's so cold. I quickly gulp down one of the many ice waters I placed next to the tub. I'm shivering, my lips are blue and my nails are rotting as my teeth try to escape my mouth and run in little circles around me. I blink hard and everything is fine, except for the dull grey color of my skin. I hear the door slam and notice that I have been in the tub for an hour now, time for green tea. My parents are home; I have to say I already ate. I slip on the baggy clothes from last year that used to be skin tight and clung to my lumpy lard, fat ass, thunder thighs. Last year I weighed 120 at 5' 6". The 'healthy' weight, but I was huge, and no one was ashamed to tell me that.

"Maxie?" The voice rung out and into my ears, my mom was checking on me most likely. She never cared until I was admitted into the jail where they force fed me through little tubes, dripping liquids into my system and shoving food down my throat in order to keep me alive. My parents never cared until now. It was all about grades, they never even noticed me not eating until it was crammed right into their sight.

"Yeah?" I call out, my voice strangled and rushed, my blood was starting to warm up beneath my skin and my throat felt damaged beyond repair. I wish I could purge, but my gag reflex was so out of whack that it wouldn't let me puke.

"Are you all right?" No, I'm fat.

"Yes." I shuffle down the stairs and look at my mother blankly as she studies me, trying to decide if I look like I have lost weight. She nods after her assessment and opens her arms to give me a hug. No, that wont do, she'll sink into my fat. I breeze past her and put the kettle onto the stove, in approximately 2 minutes the water will start to boil and the kettle will squeal in pain letting out a glass breaking shriek that makes me want to scratch my eardrums out and crush them into little pieces on the floor.

"How was school?" I look up and see her plump red lips and rosy cheeks. She's skinny and beautiful. Why couldn't I be skinny and beautiful like her?

"Fine." I didn't go.

"Good, did you make any new friends?"

"Yeah, people love me there." They don't know me.

"That's brilliant!" She smiles so wide her face might rip at the seams. I picture little stitches straining against her face as it widens and I wince. We'll have to take her to the emergency room and then she wont smile anymore. No one will smile anymore. I brush past her as the screaming from the kettle rings in the house and grab the packet of green tea I secretly snuck laxatives into. My legs hover at the pantry as I let the dying yell at us a bit longer, watching as her face contorts into irritation. She doesn't like when the kettle cries. I wait just a second longer and then turn off the stove and pour the blistering water into my mug.

"Yeah." It's brilliant. I have so many friends; their names are Ana and Deppy. They love me with all their hearts. That's why I'm not eating and have little death wishes carved into my grey porcelain skin. I grab the mug and slink up to my room, I'm not aloud to close my door anymore because I'm on suicide watch but I do anyway. My parents only care about me when it's convenient. My eyes travel my floor and I notice a blonde boy sitting behind my shelf, shifting through my CD's.

"What are you doing?" I eye him cautiously as his head snaps up and he scrambles to get off the floor.

"I um, I'm sorry. I was just looking at your music..." He gestures to the bookshelf I have that contains more than 600 albums, "totally vintage!" the cashiers told me.

"I can see that. But what are you doing in my house?" My ice glare shoots into his brain and I imagine every last scrap floating to the floor, burning little memories into the wood.

"I'm dead, that's why." He looks at me expectantly and I let out a laugh that sounds like a bark.

"Aren't we all..." I trail off and sip at my tea that is still too hot, but I'm used to it. I glance up at him and realize I should seem mad, scared, anything but calm. After all, I don't know this kid and he's in my room.

"I'll go..."

"No, that's fine. It's fine. I don't care, in fact it would be nice to have someone to talk to." Bad idea, he'll make fun of you. Your fat probably disgusts him. You're huge; even he can see that. I slink over to my bed and sit down carefully, don't want to have it break in half.

"Oh, all right. Mind if I..." He gestures to the bed and sits down awkwardly as I wave him ahead. I don't care, boys are never attracted to me-so sex isn't even going to be brought up. "So, did you move here recently? I haven't seen you around before."

"Yeah, over the weekend actually." Don't ask why. Don't ask why. Don't. Ask. Why.

"Why?" I wince and smack myself internally. I don't have to tell him, but I don't want to lie. I hate lying.

"Let's just say, back to where I came from...I kind of just really fucked up." My tongue shoots out and runs across my lip nervously. His brow rises for a second and he nods his head, understanding that I don't want to discuss the topic further.

"So..uhm..." I clear my throat and stare at him awkwardly. "If you don't mind me asking, _how_ did you get in my house?" His smile looks sad and he looks away.

"I snuck in through the basement." Bullshit. I can tell.

"Bullshit." I stare at him, my eyes hold no humor and I could wipe the smile off of a fucking teletubby.

"Nope, I did." Fuck it. I don't need to know. He wont be back anyways so it doesn't matter.

"Fine." My eyes narrow and I take another swig of my tea.

"Whatever." I like him already, but I can't let myself like him. Liking someone is dangerous, it makes you vulnerable and then they can hurt you when you least expect it.


End file.
